Chapter 50: Caution - Slow Moving Vehicles on Roadway

When I awoke the next morning I slipped out of bed, dressed and went downstairs, but for once I managed to do it without waking Sandy. In the kitchen, I made coffee very, very quietly, then as I was drinking a cup, I turned the radio on quite low so I could listen to the news and weather. Once more they were forecasting good weather, which was good news for our road building project, maybe we could get the worst of it out of the way before we got hit by a summer storm.

When I went outside to do the chores, Princess, the undersized Collie and her son, Little Duke, jumped up to join me on my rounds. Old Duke never moved a muscle and that simply wasn’t normal. Somehow I knew right away that he’d never move again, so when I touched him I wasn’t surprised to find that he was already cold and stiff. He had seemed fine last night. He’d eaten with the other dogs when I’d fed them all after finishing the chores the evening before and he’d greeted us when we came home from the housewarming parties. He must have passed on sometime last night after curling up on his favourite blanket the same way he’d done thousands of times before, but now he was gone. I was going to miss that dog.

Duke was a purebred Border Collie and I remember Grampa Bender telling me that a friend had given Duke to him about the time of my third birthday, so that would mean he was fourteen years old. That’s pretty darn old for a cattle dog, about the equivalent of a hundred dog years. He’d still been young enough to sire a pup last year though. Oh, I didn’t have proof of that, but all you had to do was look at Little Duke and you could see that he was a chip off the old block. If you knew both dogs you’d notice that Little Duke acted the same way and even had many of the same habits.

It had been almost uncanny to watch the two Dukes work cattle together, they almost seemed to read each other’s minds. And no, Princess didn’t work the same way, instead she was more excitable and much noisier. She danced around, barked, yipped and even whined at times as she was working. Duke and Little Duke moved smoothly, but quietly and their main tactic was intimidation, combined with the occasional nipped heel on any stubborn cow that didn’t herd well. They seldom made any sound louder than a snarl, yet the cattle took those two much more seriously than they ever did Princess. If Duke or Little Duke barked, they were calling for help to handle something they weren’t accustomed to or something dangerous. Barking was their cry for a human to come tell them what to do or else a plea for a human to handle a problem they couldn’t master.

Duke had acted as Grampa Bender’s door bell when a car drove into the yard and his intrusion alarm if danger was approaching. He’d been company through long cold nights, a guide through raging blizzards, a willing worker when needed and a constant friend, always ready with a joyous greeting. Just over a year ago he had sat beside Grampa Bender’s bed for hours when his old buddy had fallen ill and he hadn’t left that duty until help had arrived. Even then he hadn’t moved aside until he saw that a family member was there to handle the problem. It was only after he was certain that his master was being cared for that he’d finally dashed outside to relieve a painfully overextended bladder. Yet when I had moved up to the cabin to care for the ranch he had accepted me as his new friend and master on the ranch, doing his best to teach me what should be done and when I should do it. Later, he had been the proud father who had protected his son at a time of danger, then he’d fed his mate when she was unable to hunt and had shown her by example that I was someone to trust and obey. Above all he had soldiered on as long as he was able, doing his best for me, just as he had for Grampa Bender. In many ways Duke had been far more than just a cattle dog.

After fifteen or twenty minute, I realized that I’d been sitting beside that still form for some time, quietly stroking Duke’s fur and remembering things about him that I had liked or admired. The two other dogs had been just as still, quietly watching as I said my goodbyes to the old timer, almost as if they were joining me in mourning his passage.

With a heavy sigh I got to my feet and went to get a shovel. Duke wasn’t the first dog who had died on this ranch, so I knew just where Grampa Bender would want him to be buried. On the north side of the kitchen garden, just below the knoll topped by the tower of the old wind generator stood a line of five spruce trees. Soon there would be an sixth, but first the grave would need to settle, then I’d have to find a suitable sapling that could be transplanted to it’s new place of honour. It really didn’t take long to dig the hole or to carry over the cold body, now wrapped in his favourite blanket, but I’ll admit to taking my time and shedding several tears as I slowly covered that still form. I left the soil mounded and unpacked, so others who might want to say their own goodbyes could easily find the spot where an old friend lay at rest.

Then swinging the shovel up and resting the shovel handle on my shoulder, I walked off to begin my daily chores. I think Duke would have understood that I wasn’t being hard hearted; I had paid respect to the dead, but life goes on, even when death pays a visit. Besides, the work on a farm or ranch never really ends, cows still have calves, chickens still lay eggs, crops still grow and all the animals still need feed and water.

There weren’t a lot of barnyard chores to do in the early summer and those that needed doing were easily handled in a short time. It didn’t take long to check the horses, fill the feeders for the pigs and chickens, gather the eggs and finally, milk our one and only dairy cow. Soon I was turning the Jersey cow out to graze in the small pasture near the barn, then I was heading toward the house, carrying a pail of milk in one hand and a bucket of eggs in the other. On the porch I paused to set down my burdens for a moment, pausing to pet the two dogs, give them each a few treats and let them know that they’d done well, even if their talents hadn’t been called on that morning.

“Good morning. You must have gotten up early and sneaked away darn quietly,” Sandy greeted me as I came inside.

“Yep, morning,” I answered, setting the eggs and milk down, then going to the hand sink to clean up a bit.

“Good morning, Chris. You sound awfully sober. Is something wrong?” Lucille asked, which surprised me because I hadn’t even noticed her car in the yard.

“Morning Lucile. I suppose I am a bit down,” I sighed. “When I went outside this morning I found old Duke and realized he’d died in his sleep. I buried him out past the end of the garden where Grampa Bender would have wanted him to be. I’ll have to wait until after the fall rains start to find a Spruce sapling to shade his grave though.”

“Oh, that’s so sad. I’ll miss that old dog,” Sandy sniffed.

“Oh my. I don’t want to be the one to tell Gramps about that,” Lucille shook her head. “He loved that darn old mutt, but then so did you.”

“Well, if Duke had been a person, not a dog, he’d have been about a hundred years old, so he hung in there for a long time. If you’ve noticed though, he left behind a carbon copy. Little Duke acts just like Duke always did,” I poured myself a coffee and took my normal seat at the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” Lucille snapped. “The moment anyone drives in the yard they have to protect their crotch.”

“That’s just a dog’s version of a handshake,” I chuckled, but then I sighed. “I suppose I should be the one who tells Grampa Bender that Duke is gone, but I really need to be here and working on the new road for the next few days. So I think I’ll have to ask Mom or Dad to tell him the sad news.”

“I’d definitely appreciate someone else doing that,” Lucille sighed. “Now I have to ask, why did you say something about a Spruce sapling right after you said you buried Duke where Gramps would have wanted him to be.”

“Well, you’ve seen that row of Spruce trees between the big knoll and the garden, haven’t you? Each of those trees stands over the grave of one of Grampa Bender’s favourite dogs that he’s had over the years,” Sandy said, having heard the story, then she changed the subject. “Breakfast, Chris? The guys should be here to work on the road in about half an hour and you should be ready for them.”

When I finished breakfast and stepped outside, I glanced up toward the gap in the cliffs where we were going to run in the road and I chuckled. I was no longer seeing just dirt and rock in the cliffs on each side of the eroded gully, I was seeing an expression of geological history, all because of Mark Jackson. Over the last few Saturdays he and I had walked up and down that valley several times and he had explained to me how he thought the various layers had been laid down over geological time.

According to Mark at some time in the past the whole area, probably an area much larger that the county had been cover by a huge lake or parhaps even an inland sea. The sandstone and shale that made up the valley walls had been deposited as sand and mud on the bottom of that lake and over millions of years those had eventually been compressed into sandstone and shale. Then over the next several million or more years, running water had eroded it’s way down through the relatively soft stone, leaving the valley walls almost as they stood now. However at some point during that time a faultline had developed at the bottom end of the upper valley, either raising the upper valley, or dropping the lower valley, and as a result, isolating the section which was now Mile High Ranch. He also suggested that at some time in the past a tilt in the underlying layers of basalt and granite had formed, so when the fault had shifted it created a blockage so the whole upper valley had become a lake. Eventually that blockage had been eroded away, leaving the ranch high and dry as it was now, but as the water wore through that blockage the lake created beachs at the various levels. We saw those levels as shelves along the valley walls.

Then when Mark had surveyed the route down from the upper plateau along the erosion gully, he’d had to take several factors into account. Primarily he set out to establish an easily negotiable grade down the slope and he wanted to try to avoid crossing the main flood path of the water which rushed down the gully on a seasonal basis. His next objective was to design a roadway that wouldn’t become clogged by drifting winter snow and lastly he tried to create a design which relatively unskilled equipment operators could build. While he sought to meet those objectives, he was also trying to take advantage of the grades, shelves and past erosion levels of the gully walls so we’d be faced with the simplest and easiest job possible.

Once he’d shown me the plan and had walked the staked out route with me, I was positive that he had succeeded in most, if not all of his goals. The only questionable point in my mind was if his route solved the problem of drifting snow, but we’d have to wait for winter for the proof of his claims on that score. One positive point as far as I was concerned was that his route no longer followed as closely to the bottom of the gully as it had before, instead it ran part way up the bank of the wash. At some point in the past the water had taken a slightly different route, so along the far side of much of the gully there was an earlier erosion channel and that was the main portion of the route the new road would follow. There were two minor negative points to his design, the distance down the grade was going to be longer and a large outcropping of shale had to be blasted away. The increase in the distance we’d travel to climb the hill was negated by the fact that we’d be climbing a greatly reduced grade. The only real negative point would be the investment of time and money involved in removing most of a thick vein of shale, but I might even gain from that if the blasted shale could be handled as sheets or slabs. That all depended on the material and the blaster, so I was at the top of the hill waiting for him before eight in the morning, which is when Charlie Engels and his son-in-law, Allan ‘Boom Boom’ Jeffries was supposed to arrive.

While I was waiting, I checked the fuel and oil, then started the D6 Cat that I’d borrowed from my neighbour on Saturday. After waiting a few moments for the engine to warm, I drove the Cat out of the brush where I’d hidden it and played with it for a short while. Meanwhile Matt and John had driven over from their new house, then gone down the hill to bring back Dad’s D4 Cat with the subsoil rippers and my old Massey Harris tractor with the front end loader. At that point I was using the blade to shear away scrub brush and peel back the thin topsoil from the approach section to the new grade. Mark’s design for the road called for the approach road to swing left of it’s present position so the new road could begin it’s descent along the side of a secondary erosion channel until we could cut over to that existing shelf. By avoiding the main erosion gully in that section of the grade, we could bypass one of the steepest sections of the old road and also eliminate one of the worst stretches for snow buildup during blizzards.

Charlie was almost a half hour late and very apologetic when he arrived, but that didn’t really bother me since I’d been working steadily on the new approach road. He was late enough that Matt and John were coming up the hill with the D4 and the Massey just as we were unloading the backhoe from Charlie’s trailer. Matt and John were parking the two tractors off to the side of the new road just as Charlie’s son-in-law arrived, so it was time for introductions all around. I noticed that Allan ‘Boom Boom’ Jeffries made particular mention that he preferred to be called ‘Al’ when he wasn’t playing hockey and I also saw that he’d arrived ready to work. His pickup truck was loaded with the drills and equipment he’d need and he was towing a huge air compressor on a trailer behind his pickup.

Since Charlie was in a hurry to get to his other job, he left as soon as introductions were made, then I explained to Matt and John what I wanted each of them to do so I could spend some time with Al. Once Al and I were alone, I explained what I wanted done and suggested we should look at the job, but we hopped in my pickup rather than walk a quarter mile down the road, then have to slog back up the hill afterward. About a third of the way down the grade I pulled the truck off to the side as far as I could and parked. We got out and I pointed across the erosion channel, then about sixty feet up the opposite wall of the gully.

“There’s my problem. If you look upstream or downstream from that shale outcrop, you can see traces of an old wash as well as the stakes on both the uphill and downhill side of the new roadway. Unfortunately we need to cut right through that shale outcrop in order to meet that shelf farther downhill. I really don’t want to have a hump in the road to climb over that shale slab.”

“Well, first off, that’s not shale, it’s slate and I’d advise you to take the whole lot out of there, because if you try to build a road on that sloping sheet, everything could easily slide when it rains,” he said quietly. “Work wise, that’s quite a chunk of rock, but I can break it up into a lot smaller chunks quite easily. It’s going to fracture into slabs though, probably in sections from an inch to maybe a foot thick and the biggest hunks might be four to five feet across.”

“Wonderful!” I nodded in approval. “If it’s that small I can shove it over the bank, then shift it down where I want it with the front end scoops on the tractors. Since it’s so hard, water doesn’t wear it away fast, so I’d like to use a lot of it to line the channel down further, but some of it will become rip-rap to prevent some of the banks of the gully from eroding much more.”

“Well, you sound like you know what you’re doing,” he laughed. “Either that or someone who knows what they’re doing gave you some good advice.”

“The latter,” I chuckled. “Mark Jackson did the survey and the plans for the whole thing. Since he works for Hydro and surveys a lot of the roads they build to maintain their power lines, I thought he’d know what he was doing. He’ll be dropping around once in a while, probably in the evenings or early morning though.”

“Sounds good,” Al was looking around, then he pointed. “Do you suppose you could bring one of those Cats down here and shove the top off that little knoll there, beside the road? If you could do that, I could pull my rig off to the side, string my air hoses across the channel and up to that rock shelf, then start drilling my blast holes this morning.”

“Isn’t that a little far to haul your hoses and drills. I was thinking we’d just look at it today, then I’d run in a rough trail up top with the Cat so you could get closer to the job.”

“Hell, that isn’t far compared to a lot of the jobs I’ve done. Besides, if you don’t mind I’d just as soon get started on the job today. The wife has a baby coming and we could use the cash just as soon as we can get it. Jobs are a bit short this year, in fact this is the first job I’ve had in three weeks.”

“Not a problem then, and if you’d like I can cut you a cheque for your work every night after you finish for the day.”

“Oh no need of that. I figure there’s only three, maybe four days of work to break up that ledge, then I’ll be looking for another job. Besides, we’re not completely broke, just on the way.”

“Do you just do blasting or do you work at other jobs as well?”

“There isn’t a lot of blasting work to do in the area, so when I’m done here I’ll take anything,” he said sharply.

“Well, it may not be at your blasting wages all the time, but if you can run a tractor or a backhoe, I could use another operator for a couple of weeks. That way, if we do need any more blasting done you’ll be here and we’ll know you’re available.”

“You’d hire me on for two weeks, just like that? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Hey, Charlie recommended you and I trust him, so that’s all the reference I need.”

“Well, I’m sure willing,” he held out his right hand. “Damn, I’d like to call the wife and let her know I’ve got at least two week’s work.”

“No problem, I’ve got to drive down the hill to turn the pickup around anyway. It’s not that far from the first turn around to the house, so we’ll drive all the way. Then you can use our phone to make your call. Besides, I need to let the gals know how many guys will be around for lunch,” I grinned, shook his hand, then headed for my truck.

Al must not have been paying attention as he drove past the viewpoint into the valley when he’d arrived, but he was quite taken with the view of the ranch buildings as we came out of the gorge.

“Wow, that’s quite a setup,” he stared ahead.

“Thanks, that’s Mile High Ranch, and I suppose you could call me the manager,” I chuckled. “The place belongs to Grampa Bender, but since he’s in the hospital with a bad ticker, I’m looking after the place, and since I know I’m mentioned in the will I try to do a good job.”

“Unh huh, sure,” he snorted. “Charlie has told me a lot about you and the rest of the Bender Clan, of course I’m not sure my wife believes him. Em and I were out to the stock car races at Pine Lake early this spring and I think you’re the reason she’s pregnant. She got so excited about that darn race that she was wild that night, even worse than she usually gets when I’ve been in a tussle at a hockey game and that’s saying a lot.”

“Oops, sorry about that,” I chuckled. “Some women do get a bit wound up at those races.”

“Tell me about it,” he laughed as I pulled to a stop by the house.

While he was making his phone call I went looking for Sandy since Lucille said she was out at the garden. I found her planting Nasturtiums on the freshly turned soil over Duke’s grave.

She looked up at me and smiled with tears on her cheeks. “I thought he’d like these, since he always seemed to roll around in the ones I planted by the bridge.”

“I think he liked the way they stink,” I smiled, giving her a hug.

“Probably,” she sighed. “What are you doing back here so soon.”

“Oh, the guy who’s doing the blasting wanted to call his wife. I’ve hired him to work for the next while. If he’s not blasting rock, he can run a tractor. Since his wife is pregnant and he was having trouble finding work, he jumped at the chance.”

“You old softy,” she chortled, hugging me tightly.

“Well, his wife is a shirt-tail cousin, so...”

“A what kind of cousin?”

“A shirt-tail cousin,” I chuckled again. “Emily’s Great-Gramma was a naughty girl and got pregnant, then wouldn’t marry the guy and her son used her last name.”

“Let me guess, she was one of Grampa Bender’s girlfriends, right?”

“Yeah, the family thinks she liked to visit, but didn’t want to live here and when Grampa Bender wouldn’t move to town she got annoyed and went off on her own. We know Grampa Bender has helped out the Engels, father and son, but other than that...”

“Unh huh, and you’re just like your granddaddy, only you’re fixing the road so your gal friends can come and go at any time,” she jabbed me in the ribs and grinned.

“Hey, I’m not the one who brought all these women around. That was Carissa and you. I didn’t go chasing any women at all.”

“Oh sure, try telling that to everyone. Maybe you’ll get lucky and someone might actually believe it, but you’d better hurry, even Jackie isn’t as credulous as she once was,” she giggled, then slipped away and scooted back toward the house.

I knew that I was just being teased and that I had gotten involved with several young women, but I also knew I hadn’t sought them out intentionally, still I didn’t like being teased about it. Instead of looking for an argument though, I headed back to my truck to wait for Al to finish his phone call.

Only moments later we were on the way back up the hill to get to work for the day. By ten in the morning I had levelled the top of that knoll he had pointed out, then he’d parked his truck and trailer and was soon stretching his air hoses up to the rock outcropping. I’d scarcely gotten back to the top of the hill before Leo Burton, the District Agriculturist came driving up, closely followed by a truck from the county road maintenance yard.

At the front end of that truck they’d loaded an old sheep’s-foot packer, but the rest of the space on the flat deck was filled with sections of corrugated iron culverts which the driver unloaded at the side of the road. I was surprised when a second truck drove up with another load of culverts, but Leo just grinned and told me to talk to the driver. That driver said both loads had been used before and since every piece was damaged, the county couldn’t use them again, which meant I could have both loads at scrap metal prices. I didn’t care if the culverts were used or not, and since they were still great for our purposes, I wrote out a cheque to the county and handed it to the driver. It was a good deal all around. The county was glad to clean up their work yard while I had more than enough culverts to do the job at hand and had managed to get them very cheaply. Since Leo and the county drivers left as soon as they’d unloaded the packer beside the ‘scrap iron’ corrugated pipe, I was able to get back to the job at hand quite soon.

Now before I go any further with my description of what we were doing, I should explain a bit about the sandstone in the area we were working. It isn’t one of the extremely hard or very dense forms of sandstone, which means that rainfall and snow melt, which both contain minute amounts of nitric and carbonic acid, eventually break the sandstone down into plain, old, garden-variety sand. Of course that means water running down the gullies is loaded with loose sand during a gully washing rainfall. It also means that any slope or vertical face of sandstone usually has a sloping pile of loose sand at its base and any surface that nears level will have a covering of loose sand. Of course nature being what it is, there are plants which thrive in that loose sand which do die and decompose and there is also some clay in the sandstone cliffs, so that loose sand eventually becomes a very sandy topsoil. Sandy topsoil is not the best material with which to build roads, in fact it’s a very poor material since water and pressure both move it so easily.